the lion's den
by emeleyne
Summary: a series of drabbles of an alternate universe in which sansa stark is wedded to jaime lannister (sansa x jaime) (ALL LOWERCASE WARNING!)
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: **_i don't read the books so this is probably extremely inaccurate/ooc but it is au so yea haha uhhh  
>update: oH YE GAWDS JESUS OK THERE YA GO. AND ALSO HERE IS A LOWERCASE WARNING SO IF U DON'T LIKE LOWERCASE STUFF, PLEASE DONT READ~~~<em>

**1. awkward**

the wedding was, to put the least, awkward. it had been a relatively quiet one, and taking place in a small chapel outside of the city -away from all the aristocrats and the watching eye of society-, the ceremony had only been attended by the lannisters themselves: cersei with her usual scorn framed beneath long lannister gold hair, tyrion and his quiet demeanor- the scar on his nose reflecting a sense of sadness that seemed to set the stage-, joffrey who had claimed to come only to "bring good wishes to his dear uncle and his new wife" but as he leered lustily at sansa, she knew his intentions were anything but pure, and of course, tywin lannister. he stared empty-eyed at his younger son and having stripped of his dutiful kingsguard title in exchange for the new position of 'lord of casterly rock', jaime lannister looked nothing near happy; his scorned expression a reflection to that of his twin's, cersei.

sansa cringed at the sight. it didn't feel right- even though she was just fifteen, she knew her marriage to the "lion" was more than just a petty attempt for joffrey to be able to rid of her in order to marry margaery tyrell- it was more than that. she knew tywin lannister had wanted to take land from the north; the home she had so readily abandoned for the arms of a false prince. oh, how naive she had been. and as she slowly walked down the isle -with joffrey by her side, acting as the father he had so unremorsefully murdered before her very eyes -, she felt her lower lip tremble softly, _this isn't how i wanted things to turn out. _she sighed, her thoughts suddenly interrupted as she felt the selfish boy-king pinch her arm harshly.

"sansa i'm so sad to be seeing you off." joffrey hisses mockingly, his bony fingers twisting the flesh of her arm. she looked straight ahead, towards the alter and tries desperately to ignore him. but joffrey only continues. "and you were such a good fuck, too." he whispers and she can't help but flinch.

joffrey was a cruel boy and the faded scars on her back and legs reminded her of the fact on a daily basis. she hated him, all of them- the lannisters were cruel and selfish people and she felt traitorous to her family for being married to two lannisters now (almost to the first one, atleast). she felt like a wolf in a lion's hide, the first time she had willingly taken, the second- forced. but despite her shame, sansa was still a girl and even though she was to be married off to a lannister, let alone a man twice her age, she couldn't help but relish in the twisted freedom that she would finally be away from joffrey. away from the pain and from the hurt that he had inflicted upon her. (away from home too, but she willed herself to stop clinging onto the hope of ever returning to the north ever again- not completely, but just enough to allow her to function on a day to day basis)

sansa sighs again. maybe she would find comfort in knowing that jaime lannister seemed like a relatively relaxed man, the presence of flocking and flirting women never seeming to phase him. after all, joffrey was a woman-crazed boy and sansa would be glad to be void from the depravity of a man's touch for the rest of her days spent in casterly rock (if possible) _maybe he secretly hates women _sansa even thought childishly as she stepped onto the alter, her blue eyes meeting the cool stare of older man -the kingslayer's- own bottle green eyes.

_maybe he'll have no hesitation killing me._

the golden haired stranger leans in to kiss her.

_after all, he is the king slayer._

sansa feels the cool touch of his fake hand touch her arm softly- it was so gentle, it felt foreign; forgotten, the feeling of it reminding her of the way her mother would hug her every night before bed. a tear slides down her face.

_maybe i'll just be better off dead._


	2. Chapter 2

haven't updated in so long, the ending is v v shitty idk where i went with this haha

**2. goodbye**

from within the carriage, sansa peeks through the window and stares emptily at the place she is leaving behind, the place she had once -so long ago, in the very beginning- been so excited to call "home". as a child, kingslanding, with its warm weather and ever-lively streets had seemed like such a beautiful city compared to her native north. but in reality, she had just been charmed by the prospect of becoming a princess- young joffrey baratheon and his soft blond hair and seemingly gentle green eyes was nothing but a lie. through the years of living here, sansa was quick to learn that the beauty of kingslanding was ultimately, nothing but an illusion.

because beyond the ever-sun kissed streets and bustling alleyways filled with local vendors and giggling young children, sansa had seen, no… felt the flip side of kingslanding. the cruelty of cersei lannister's harsh words, the ever-growing hunger of joffrey baratheon's twisted lust played out on the canvas of her developing body, and of course, peter baelish's small grey-green eyes which always seemed to be watching her. observing her every move.

as the carriage travels down the narrow pathway through the forest, sansa feels at peace. she is finally getting away from this place. her goodbye to this god awful hellhole in which she's been existing within for the past year. trees cast dancing shadows upon the forest ground and as the carriage moves deeper into the thick greens, the flickering shadows condense into a solid form. the sky darkens slightly, and sansa turns to look upwards, seeing that the leaves had completely shrouded the morning sun. it reminded her a bit of the godswoods back home, though she barely actually remembers much of it now.

because sansa was nervous, her fear teetering with every passing bump of the carriage wheels against the rocky pathway. casterly rock, in her mind, was _the _den of all lions. lannister's property. and she was a wolf- regardless of many years she had and would have to spend away from the north, sansa would always be a wolf at heart. nothing would change that. sansa would forever treasure her northern ways and for a second, she sighs at the nostalgia of home, her hand weaving through her red hair absentmindedly. long and wavy- it is finally free of those awful southern braids she had once forced herself to love. it wisps gently against a soft current of wind.

free, like how the north had once been. and maybe even casterly rock as well now..._ after all, jaime lannister seemed too depressed to give a damn about her whereabouts or whatever, his opinion of their marriage made very evident on the night of their weeding. _sansa had never seen casterly rock and even though she hated the idea of being within lannister property, she clung to the childish hope that she would be given the possibility of reliving her childhood nostalgia. maybe, just maybe she would be able to run in the fields again, let her hair loose, even do a bit of archery (not that she really liked it anyways, but…)

it was ironic, really, the notion that she had found freedom in the arms of an age-old enemy.

and as she continued to be lead away from kingslanding, with her new husband lead her into the direction of the darkening forest,  
>sansa felt a hint of guiltiness tainting her childlike happiness.<br>"good bye." she whispers, her voice lost against the soft hush of the wind. lost, like her father's dignity to the cruelness of kingslanding. "good bye."


End file.
